O Captain! My Captain
by The Artful Dodger
Summary: War is hard, when Harry dies, his son is affected the worst.


I don't own anything in the story. The poem was written after president Lincoln was murdered. The characters belongs to J. K. Rowlings. I do own Will Potter though. This is a story of Harry's son Will after the final battle.  
  
************************************************************************ ~O Captain! my Captain! Our fearful trip is done; The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won~ ***********************************************************************  
  
We had won the war! It was finally over, after years of fighting and death, it was finally over, I had to keep telling myself that. My father had had done it, had anyone every doubted him? He fought with his very heart and soul, sometimes he was worn thin like too little butter over to much bread, but he always pulled us all through and in the end he won his battle.  
  
*********************************************************************** ~The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring.~ ***********************************************************************  
  
I could hear the people cheering and celebrating as we neared the town. Church bells clanged loudly over all the people and throughout the country, but somehow the seemed to be centered on this town where we were marching to. Reaching the town the lavished food and wine upon up without care to how much was wasted, I can't blame them. The war was over, how could you blame them? If I turned my head I could see Sirius, with a grin plastered to his face, Remus with that ever tired look o his face but you could see a hint of relief on his face, Ron and Hermione, hand in hand, looking happy yet lost and the same time as they waited for my father, who we all know was at the end of the soldiers.  
  
************************************************************************ ~But O heart! Heart! heart! O bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck me Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.~ ************************************************************************  
  
The final soldiers finally marched into the town, there were four of them, they were weighted down. My father was the last one to come in, he was carried by those four soldiers. He came in a flat-topped coffin. It did not suit him, being in there, dead, while we celebrated a victory that is rightfully his. For thirty years damn long years he fought that monster Voldermort, and when what he had been fighting for came, he wasn't there to taste it, the irony of it.  
  
******************************************************************* ~ Oh Captain! My Captain! Raise up and hear the bells; Rise up- for you the flag is flung- for you the bugles trill; for you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths- for you the shores a-crowding; for you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning. ~ *******************************************************************  
  
The flags of Griffindore and those of the Potter crest waved in all their glory. Flowers were being lain on that flat-topped coffin of my father's. The sad trill of a bugle and the mournful cries of a violin seemed to be calling my father to the church, where he is to rest forever and where we will all say our final good byes to him. Saying goodbye we will do but we will never forget. People call out to my father in vain hope of some sign or answer that they know can never come, some reach out to touch the coffin and received glares from the soldiers he had marched with for the past years. Some smiled with eager faces waiting to see their hero.  
  
*********************************************************************** ~ Here Captain! Dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck my captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. ~ ************************************************************************  
  
From the time I saw my father fall from life to the time now, watching his body being brought to the church, I have often thought this must be some awful nightmare. I would rather it be some dream that way I would be able have my father back. I would rather still have Voldermort alive then my father would be too. But those are wistful as well as selfish thoughts. The last thing my father said to me while he way dying with my arm supporting his head up was "Will.. I know this is the end of my life..but..but don't worry too much I'll.. I'll be with you always. It isn't so. so bad." Then he was gone.  
  
************************************************************************ ~ My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not fell my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, it's voyage is closed and done; from fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won. ~ ************************************************************************  
  
I let my self crumple into the ground and for the first time I let the tears fall from my green eyes, so alike to my father's. The sob began to shake my body and I feel a gentle but strong hand being laid on my shoulder. I knew it was Sirius, as I knew my father's death had been pretty hard for him to take, he's been there since my father's birth to his death and he was there at my birth when my father was sixteen. I have a feeling he'll be there for my death too. I look up into Sirius' old and tired face, all of his forty-six years finally showing through. All the sorrow he's had to bear and having to bear what he called his curse, he was alive for his best friend's death, a Potter, he was there for his god-son's death, who also is a Potter. And as I said before, he'll be there to witness mine, I'm Will Potter. He helps me up and together we walk into the church.  
  
************************************************************************ ~ Exult, O shores! And ring! O bells! But I with mournful tread, walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. ~ ************************************************************************  
  
As I kneeled at my father's headstone, I ran my fingers over the letters and read:  
  
Harry Potter Another Fallen Hero May his memory never be forgotten.  
  
I can't help my close my eyes and my throat tightened and my heart as is screamed for my father to return. As I read it again, I realize that my father in another fallen hero. I reach into my pocket and I pull out a picture of myself and my fallen father. It is of my fifteenth birthday, three days before we both fought in the final battle. He always tried to keep me out of the fighting but even he had to admit I was one of the best fighters, even at 15 years old. I smiled at the muggle picture and felt another tug at my heart, he had his arm slug over my shoulder and I was grinning from ear to ear holding a cake with the works Happy Birthday Will! Spelled out in emerald green frosting. I took the picture and held it under the words on the headstone, muttering a spell my father had taught me, the picture sealed to the stone. It was there forever now, the words on the stone would fade but the picture would stay there. With that I got up and walked down the grassy slope away from the church and away from my father.  
  
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R/R please! I wanna know what ya think about my little story. Was it good or bad? Should I continue with a story about Will before and after this story? 


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